Pieces
by Stargate-Lover-Steph
Summary: After Lukes death, Frankie and Grace are left to pick up the pieces.


When she saw Graces number on the small screen she was instantly paralysed with fear. She let go of the computer mouse and reached gingerly for the phone, debating on answering or letting voicemail pick it up. Even if she did let it go to voicemail she would have to pick it up and possible return the call in the end.

"Grace." She managed to muster saying as she answered the call, her voice sounding shaky even to her own ears.

"Don't panic, he hasn't been injured," Grace said quickly as she heard the panic in her friend's voice.

Frankie instantly relaxed at Graces words, her shoulders slumping when she found out he was safe. Then again, if he was okay Grace wouldn't be calling.

"Grace, what's happened?" Trying to stop the surge of panic from rearing back up as she spoke.

"It's Luke." Grace's words quiet and solum.

"Has Boyd caught up with him again? Is everything okay?" The lump in her throat growing each second Grace paused.

"Eve just came to see me, asked me to speak to Peter." Grace tried to explain to Frankie as she struggled to find the words to tell her what had happened.

"Grace, just tell me, please." The lump in Frankie's throat making it hard to speak.

"Luke's dead, Frankie." Finally forcing the words out as she listened to her friend suck in a deep breath.

Frankie couldn't reply, couldn't comprehend what she had just heard. Luke, dead, he couldn't be. Boyd had only seen him a week ago if that. She had only been in Glasgow four days, and she had spoken to Boyd every night, be it by FaceTime or just a voice call she had spoken to him. He had never said anything to her.

"Frankie, you okay?" The concern in Grace's voice bleeding down the phone connection.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just, I never thought, I never expected, it shouldn't have ended like this." The tears streaming down Frankie's face as she spoke. "Have you seen or spoken to Peter?" Frankie enquired.

"No, Eve just left. He's locked away in his office. Have you spoken to him today?" Looking at her watch and seeing it was already gone ten.

"Yeah, I spoke to him three hours ago. Did Eve say when Luke died, or what from?" Trying to wipe the tears from her face even though she was still crying.

"Drugs overdose and I would say it's been a couple of days. Eve said they had tried to contact Boyd several times to collect the body. How long do you have left in Glasgow?" Trying to mentally recall if Boyd has said how long Frankie was away for.

"I should be here until next Wednesday, but I'll come back either tonight or tomorrow, as soon as I can arrange cover and transport." Reaching for the computer mouse and clicking save on the report she had been writing.

"Okay, let me know when you get sorted out. Will you speak to Peter before you come back?." Hoping she wouldn't be the one who had to talk to Peter and make him face Luke's death.

"God, no. If I speak to him he'll tell me he's fine and that he'll see me next Wednesday. If he couldn't tell me when we spoke on the phone there is no way he's going to talk now. I'll just come back and see him face to face. And before you ask, I'll not name names when I see him. If he asks I'll point out I still have contacts in London." Hearing Grace sigh with relief when she predicted what she was going to ask.

"Thanks, Frankie. I'll let you go, and I'll go speak to Peter. I'll speak to you tomorrow." Knowing that now neither of her friends would be getting much rest.

"And Frankie, I'm truly sorry about breaking it to you like this." Hoping Frankie understood why she had called her first.

"Grace, I understand and thank you for calling. I'll go and see what I can sort out and I'll be in touch. Night, Grace." Frankie sniffled as she wiped her cuff across her nose.

"Night, Frankie," Grace replied before ending the call.

Frankie continued to hold the phone against her ear even after Grace had hung up. She was still numb, Graces words echoing in her ear as she told her Luke was dead. When she finally lowered the mobile, the screen lit up showing a picture of herself and Boyd, him standing behind her with his head resting on her shoulder. They were both smiling, the sun reflecting of Boyds now grey hair making it look almost white. She held the phone in her hand, running her index finger over the image of Boyd, tears springing to eyes again. She needed to get a grip, make some calls, arrange getting home. She had travelled up on the train, her car parked safely outside Boyd's big townhouse. Looking at her watch she knew trying to arrange a replacement to cover her classes would be a waste of time, no one would entertain her at eleven pm. She did, however, use her laptop to book a train home, making sure she didn't book it too early so she could at least have time to cover the remaining classes she was supposed to be teaching. As she shut her laptop down she wondered if Grace had spoken to him yet. The urge to call him, hear his voice, ask him why he hadn't told her, yell at him for shutting her out, do something, anything to try and ease the ache in her chest.

She didn't call him, just text him the customary goodnight as she placed her laptop in its bag and began to pack her clothes away. She was surprised to get a reply almost instantly, the usual goodnight with a kiss attached appearing on her screen as she began to cry again. She just wanted to see him, hold him, let him know he didn't have to deal with this all on his own. As the night dragged on and the sun started to rise, she packed and repacked her case several times, finding the odd sock and hair clip lying around as she tidied up. When her alarm finally went off, she was sat staring out the window nursing yet another cup of coffee, her thoughts hundreds of miles away with a man who was unbeknown to her sat mirroring her posture, the only difference being the coffee was replaced with scotch.

She hadn't bargained on it taking so long to arrange cover for her classes, or the traffic in Glasgow city centre when it wasn't even lunch time yet. As she got out the taxi and took her case from the taxi driver, she quickly thrust a twenty-pound note in his hand as she dashed for the train station entrance. She made it to the platform just as the train was pulling into the station, her body protesting at the burst of energy it had just used with no sleep. She slumped down into her seat as the train started to pull out of the station, her eyes watering with a mix of sleep deprivation and the sun shining directly on to her. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and looked at the time, twelve-twenty, at least the train was leaving on time. She text Grace, telling her she was on the train heading home, and barring delays she would be back by six.

She was just dozing off when her phone started to ring, her body and mind complaining at the interruption. She blinked trying to focus on the name on the small screen, the sun still shining directly in her face. Seeing Graces name she flicked the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

"Grace, is everything okay?" Her voice sounding dry and crackly as she spoke.

"Frankie, yes it's fine. Are you okay? You sound tired." Knowing she was probably stating the obvious.

"I'm fine, Grace. I just didn't sleep well last night. Actually, I didn't sleep at all but never mind. Has something happened?" Turning the conversation away from her lack of sleep and back to why Grace had phoned.

"Eve just spoke to me again. Peter went to the morgue last night after I spoke to him, he's claimed Luke's body." The silence stretching out as she let her friend absorbed the new twist in the ever complicated life of Peter Boyd.

"Christ, Grace. He shouldn't have had to do that alone." Frankie's voice breaking as she again felt tears welling in her eyes.

"I know, Frankie. But you know Peter, he's dealing with this the way he thinks is best. The problem is it's all coming crashing down around him. Eve gave me the name and number of the pathologist if you want to ring him of course." Knowing Frankie would ring and use her position to find out what happened.

"Give me two ticks, I'll dig out a pen and paper." Starting to reach for her case but stopping as she listened to the woman on the other end of the phone.

She heard Grace talking, then heard the unmistakable voice of Boyd as Grace moved the phone slightly, no doubt so Frankie could hear better. She could hear Peter asking if he should come back later, and of course Graces reassurance to him it was fine.

"I'll text you the details of that case, see what you think." Frankie heard Grace say, her voice directed back down at the phone to her.

"Thanks, Grace, I owe you. Bye." Listening to Grace say bye before hanging up.

Five minutes late Frankie's screen lit up with a message from Grace, the name and number of the pathology who had Luke's body. Frankie smiled slightly, she knew the name well, an old colleague from years ago. As she pressed to call the number she realised her hands were shaking, the motion of the train having nothing to do with her sudden nervousness. She put the phone to her ear and took a couple of deep breaths, turning away from the window and looking down at her case to give her something solid and unmoving to focus on.

"Hello, John speaking, how can I help?" The man answered as Frankie sucked in a deep breath.

"Hi John, it's Frankie Wharton." Introducing herself and trying to sound as positive as she could when she spoke.

"Frankie, it's been awhile. How're things? What can I do you for?" John answered back as Frankie took another deep breath in.

"I'm hoping you can help me with some information, obviously off the records of course." Sounding John out before she pounced.

"I'll try, what do you need?" John answered instantly.

"You had a body brought in in the last couple of days. Young male, about five-six, blonde hair, scruffy looking, drugs overdose." Her throat restricting as she described Luke.

"Oh, Yeah. His father came and formally identified him last night. Luke Boyd was his name. What's this about Frankie? Do you know the kid?" John asked, curious as to what Frankie really wanted.

"Yes, no, both," Frankie answered, unsure of what to say next as she blinked several times to clear the tears from her eyes. "When the man came to identify the body, what happened?" She finally managed to ask, even though she was sure she didn't really want an answer.

"I asked him if he knew who the body was and he broken down, bent over and hugged the body to him as he told me it was his son. Frankie, what's this about? Tell me and I may be able to help more." John asked as heard Frankie sniffled.

"The man who came to identify the body, he's my," pausing as she considered her answer. Boyd hated the word boyfriend and wasn't impressed with the word lover either. "My partner. Luke Boyd is my partner's son." Her voice breaking as she revealed the truth.

"Oh Frankie, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Wait, last I heard you were working for a Peter Boyd, doing cold cases. This isn't the same Boyd is?" Fishing for information as he listened to Frankie trying to get her emotions under control.

"Yes, same Boyd. I left the cold case unit just over two years ago, went into research and teaching. Anyway, how was he when he left, did he stop long?" Firing off questions as she pictured Peter slumped over his son's body.

"He was here about half an hour, managed to pull himself together before he left. Said he would be in touch in the next couple of days to make arrangements. Frankie, I had no idea, I would have called you had I known." John offered as he sighed and rubbed his face.

"It's okay, John. Thanks for telling me what you have. I'm on my way home from Glasgow now, should be in London by six. I'm sorry for asking you all these questions but I've been in Glasgow teaching, and Peters not an easy man to understand. Thanks for speaking to me, I have to go trains getting full and I need to move my case." Using the first excuse she could think of to end the call.

"Glad I could help, and again, I'm sorry for your loss Frankie." Offering his condolence to Frankie just as he had done with Peter Boyd the night before.

"Thanks, John. Bye." Frankie managed to say before ending the call and making a dash for the train's bathroom.

She made it just in time, the last few cups of coffee she had drunk being vomited into the sink. When she was sure she was done being sick she turned the tap on and splashed water on her face, the coldness stinging her eyes and cheeks. Rubbing her face dry on her jumper sleeves she left the toilet and returned to her seat, the train whizzing through the open countryside as she sat down. Her mind was fuzzy, her stomach ached, and her eyes and cheeks stung from tiredness and crying. She looked at her watch and saw she still had a couple of hours until she reached London, a couple of long lonely hours to nothing but think and mourn.

She must have dozed off for a while as she was woken by a train steward asking her where she wanted to be. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking out the window at the dark tunnel they were in.

"Next one, thanks for waking me." Frankie's voice a little sleepy as she stretched her arms to wake up.

Frankie looked around and saw the train was nearly empty, only a few people were left travelling into London city centre. As the train pulled into the station she zipped her coat up and stood up, pulling up the handle on her case. Once the train stopped at the platform she made her way to the open door and stepped out into the biting wind. She shivered as walked down the platform, her case rattling behind her. She checked her watch and wondered where he was, what he was doing. He was probably still at work, ignoring his own problems with others peoples. She jumped into the first taxi she saw, giving them the address for Peters townhouse as she settled into the back seat. The heat from the taxi and the London rush hour traffic made the journey home twice as long as it should be. She was practically asleep when the taxi pulled up outside the gloomy looking townhouse, the place shrouded in darkness showing that no one was home. Paying the taxi driver, she got out and dragged her cases up the stone steps and rested it against the side wall, digging into her pockets for the door keys. After finally managing to open the door she hauled the case inside and closed the door behind her.

After taking the case to the bedroom, she had a quick shower and pulled on fresh fluffy pyjamas. She did make a sandwich and managed to eat half of it before throwing the rest in the bin. Going into the living room she looked at the fire and thought about lighting it, but decided the throw on the back of the settee would do as she curled up and closed her eyes. When she woke what felt like several hours later, she blinked and focused on her watch, seeing she had managed a full two hours sleep. She snuggled deeper into the settee cushions as she pulled the blanket tightly around her. She closed her eyes again and shivered as she heard the wind blowing hard outside. She gave up after several minutes of lying looking at the ceiling, getting up and going to get her phone from where she had left it on the bedside table. She pressed the home button and the screen lit up showing a missed call and a message from Grace. Peter had left the office to come home, some twenty minutes ago according to the time the text was sent. He should be arriving home any minute. Going to the bedroom window she looked down just as the familiar silver car parked up. She watched as the door opened and Boyd got out, grabbing his briefcase from the passenger seat before shutting the door. She made her way quickly downstairs, sitting down on the settee just as she heard the key turning in the front door and it opening.

She stayed in the dark, listening, watching the door as she waited for him to enter. When he did enter she saw him reach for the light switch, braced herself for the oncoming storm that wasn't just building outside the house, but inside it as well. When the light came on she spoke, watched him quickly turn towards her as he took in her attire and the way she was sat.

"Hello, Boyd." She said, seeing the look of pain quickly change to shock as he took her in.

"Shit, Frankie. You trying to give me a heart attack." He replied, schooling his features as he spoke.

"Sorry." Apologizing even though they both knew she didn't mean it.

"What are doing back? Thought you were teaching until Wednesday." He asked as he made his way towards her, shrugging out of his jacket and placing it carefully over the back of the settee before he sat down.

"Really?" Giving him that look that told him she wasn't in the mood to be pissed around.

"How did you find out? Has Grace been snitching on me again?." Turning to face Frankie as he asked her how she knew about Luke.

"I know people who know people, especially people in places that still keep in touch with me when needed. Us pathologists still talk, Boyd. My question is why didn't you tell me, why did I have to find out from someone else?" Seeing his mask slip and the pain creeping back in before he looked down at his folded hands to gain his composure.

"I was going to when you got back. Is this what you came back early for? To lecture me on not sharing every damn detail of my personal life with you." His anger building as he tried to gain control of his ever-shifting emotions.

"Your personal life! Am I not part of that personal life? Am I just something that fits in when needed?" Her own anger growing as she felt her eyes starting to sting again.

"Shut up, Frankie. I don't need this shit right now." Boyd nearly yelled back, jumping up from the settee as he clenched his fists and glared down at Frankie.

"Fine, I'll go then. You just let me know when you need me again then." Standing up and making a dash for the door before he could see the tears running down her face.

She wasn't quick enough, he somehow managed to reach out and grab her by the wrist stopping her from escaping. He pulled her back to him, her shoulder impacting with his body as he spun her to face him. She kept her head down, she was not going to let him see her weak.

"Frankie, look at me." She heard him say as a tear dripped down her nose and fell to the floor.

When she didn't move, she felt his fingers graze her chin as he gently tilted her head up so she was looking at him. She didn't open her eyes, just kept them closed as she felt his gaze fixed on her.

"Frankie, look at me, please." The please merely a whisper.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking to clear the tears away. When she did, brown eyes locked with brown eyes and they both stood staring at each other, all the pain, the misery, the suffering, lancing back and forth between them. Neither was sure who moved first, lips melded together as hands were thrust roughly under clothing. Buttons flew off Boyd's shirt as Frankie ripped it open, Frankie's pyjamas pants were pushed down hastily as he pulled her closer. Soon they were both naked, a pile of clothes on the living room showing the haste they had been removed in. Frankie went to move away so she could pull him down onto the settee but he stopped her. Boyd pulled her back to him and spun her around, her back now pressed firmly against his chest. He let his hand drop to her hips, pinning her to him as she tried to wriggle away.

"You're mine, Frankie." He growled protectively in her ear as he nipped at her neck with his teeth.

Frankie could only let out a breathless moan as Boyd continued his assault on her neck, nipping, biting and sucking on the tender skin. Soon Frankie found herself bent over at the waist, her forehead resting on the back of the settee as Boyd gripped her waist tightly and thrust hard and fast into her from behind. When Boyd collapsed against her back, Frankie braced herself to take the extra weight, her legs shaking as she interlinked her fingers with Boyds on her waist. After a few minutes, she had to move, her own body exhausted keeping them both up.

"Peter, you're heavy, shift off." Squeezing his hands as she pushed back against him and went to stand up.

Boyd stood up straight, pulling Frankie upright with him. He didn't let go, just nuzzled her neck as she leaned back against him.

"We need to talk Boyd." Feeling his body go instantly ridged.

"Not now, okay." He sighed as he let go of her and stepped away.

"When, Peter? When you arrange the funeral? When you stand and watch him being buried? When it's all over and the pain and hurt are still there? When Peter, when will you talk to me?" Knowing she was pushing him, but doing it as she knew it was the only way to get him to talk.

"I don't know, just not now okay." Walking towards the door but stopping to look at a picture on the wall.

Frankie followed his gaze to a picture of a young Luke, a carefree Luke who worshipped his father. She was at his side instantly as he crumpled, wrapping him safely in her arms as he cried against her bare shoulder. She somehow managed to steer them both to the settee, get them both seated and wrapped in the throw as she held him tightly.

"Let it out, Boyd. I'm here, let go, I've got you." Feeling him cling more tightly to her as his body shook with silent sobs.

She wasn't sure how long they had sat there, Peters body shaking as he cried for all the lost years with his son, all the years they wouldn't have. She didn't say anything, knowing nothing she said or did would make him feel any better. She felt him move and looked down, relaxing her grip on him as he moved.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled hoarsely.

"Don't be daft. Just don't shut me out, let me in, let me help, let me be there for you when you need someone." Kissing his forehead as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"I'll try, not promising, but I will try." His breath tickling her neck as he spoke.

"Come on, we're both too old to be sleeping naked on the settee, especially when it's winter and there is no fire lit or heating on." Giving him a nudge so he sat up.

Frankie stood up and held her hand out to him, watching as he considered the gesture before taking her hand. She led him up the stairs and into the bedroom, pulling the covers back on the bed and moving aside for him to get in. When he was lying down she pulled the covers over him and walked around the bed to join him. As she pulled the cover up and around her shoulders she felt Boyd wrap his arm around her waist and pull her flush against his chest. She went willingly, her body moulding to his as he wrapped her up in his arms. She couldn't stop the tears as they fall, was powerless as he rolled her over and hugged her tight to his chest. She buried her face in his neck, let's the tears roll down her face onto his shoulder, muffling the sound of her sobs against his warm skin. He held her securely, ran one hand up and down her back as the other stroked over her hair. He kissed her hair, her temple, whispered to her it was okay to let go, reassured her he's there. Then he apologised again, say he'd try not to shut her out, to include her in all aspects of his life, including Luke.

Just thinking about Luke made him weak, brings tears to his eyes, and she knows that even though she's falling apart in his arms she knows him. She wraps her arms around him as best as she can, both giving and receiving strength as she feels a tear fall onto her temple. They are both crying, for the same reason, but also for different ones. She thought she was losing him and that's something she can't bear. He thought she was pushing him away, when in fact she was trying to draw him closer. They both know things will get tougher before they get easier. There's still Luke's funeral to arrange and attend. Work still needs doing, but for now, they have each other, and that's enough for now.


End file.
